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He held his breath as her hand reached for the door. For one moment, he actually thought she’d get out and walk, but she settled at the last moment, and TJ noticed her rounded shoulders and the way she shifted so that she could hug both arms around her stomach.
‘I called my mom.’
He almost hated making her talk when she turned those eyes on him. All that wild rage had been replaced by a deep, deep sadness.
Unable to leave her sitting there, looking so alone, TJ got out of the truck. He walked around the back and let the tailgate down on the way to her door. He unclipped her seatbelt. The moment it slid loose, he lifted her out and wordlessly carried her to the tailgate as he tried to ignore the smell of her hair and the feel of her soft curves flush against his body.
He put her down gently, climbed up behind her and pulled her back into his chest. Because he had noticed that she always stood with her arms wrapped around herself protectively, he gave her what she needed and roped his around her instead. He kissed her temple, just once, and said, ‘Tell me.’
She surprised them both with the strangled sob that left her lips. But she caught it. She fought it for a full minute, her small body shuddering with effort.
TJ didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. Just waited quietly.
Once she’d fought her way back to calm, Skye whispered, ‘It was only for a minute. Because my father came home. But I told her I bought a horse. And she was happy for me. But all I could think about once she hung up was that I’m here, free, and going on a date with this really nice guy while she’s stuck there with him.’ She spat the last word with something that far surpassed bitterness. TJ might have called it hatred if it had been so simple.
‘Did you try to get her to leave?’ he asked gently.
‘Yes, but—’
‘Did you stand up to your dad?’
‘That’s not the point—’
‘Is it your responsibility to endanger yourself for someone who refuses to accept your help?’
She didn’t answer his question, only said, ‘You don’t know what it’s like.’
And then the tears came.
TJ held her as she curled against him and lost herself to her grief. As he crooned senseless endearments – ‘I’ve got you’ and ‘Let it go, baby’ – it occurred to him that if any other woman had broken down in his arms after just two days, he would have run for the hills. He certainly wouldn’t have held her tighter, as he did with Skye.
It didn’t scare him that she was different. Mostly because he chose not to think too deeply about it. It was too much, too soon. It was too big.
She cried for a long time, and when the last of it had left her, she slumped against him, exhausted, her face red and splotchy, her eyes painfully blue against the black mascara smeared everywhere.
‘I bet I look real pretty,’ she said, her voice raspy and congested.
‘You are absolutely the most beautiful racoon on the planet.’
As he’d hoped, she smiled. But it was still so tired. So heavy. As if just that small gesture was a weight to lift.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ he insisted.
‘Some date, huh?’
He kissed her lips softly. ‘We’re working backwards.’
‘Hmm?’
‘Well, typically, it goes: dinner, dancing, hotel, and then the date ends with you leaving in my shirt the next morning so that I can nap and get room service.’
She elbowed him in the ribs at that.
TJ bit her neck gently in retaliation before adding, ‘But this time, we’re starting with you in my shirt. So, dinner and dancing next?’
She shook her head.
